Chapter 18

We sat peacefully for a while, as the sun lowered itself toward the hills and mountains on the western edge of Lanfair Valley. Dusk was just beginning to rise up from the ground when the Blazer pulled up and stopped, with a San Bernardino County Sheriff's vehicle behind it. I got up off the sand and walked over to where Cecelia and Darlia were pulling things out of the back of the Blazer. She wrapped me up in her thin strong arms, and I lifted her off the ground for a few seconds with my own hug. And then I let her go, and knelt down, and hugged Darlia just as fiercely. When I stood up I said, "I've missed y'all."

"We missed you too, Daddy," my daughter said.

"Unfortunately tomorrow's going to be more of the same. I've got to eliminate the possibility that the trail continues, if nothing else. And if it does end here, it'll still take a while to be sure of it."

"A difficult trail, I presume," said Cecelia as she hefted a backpack over one shoulder and snared the handles of four water jugs in her fingers. I paused for a moment to admire the strength it took to carry four jugs so easily – that was 16 pounds in each hand, and aside from the curled fingers she made it look like nothing.

"Yeah," I said when we started walking, Darlia on the other side of Cecelia carrying her own backpack. "It's old, and even if this guy wasn't hiding his trail it's nearly gone. I don't know when I've had such a difficult one."

"You are, I'm confident, fully capable of working it out. I have seen you track deer when as far as I could discern no living thing had passed by since the creation of the world. If there is a trail, Darvin, you will find it."

"Yeah, that's what they tell me." And I grinned at her, for I wasn't nearly as sour about her flattery as I was when others were doing it.

Cecelia might have said something more, but we were now at the clearing, and she dropped the water jugs and the backpack, as Darlia did with her load. She handed out water jugs, which were still cool from being in the shade all day – cool compared to what we'd been carrying with us, anyway – and headed back to the Blazer. I squatted down and rummaged through her backpack, finding chips and French bread, and cans of chili and hominy and hash.

Darlia pulled on my sleeve. "Daddy, look what I brought."

I turned, and Darlia pulled out bags of hard candy – stuff I don't like, but which would get the saliva flowing in the cops' mouths, and give them a pleasant taste. Me, I like chocolate, stuff you can chew on, nuts and such. I saw what Darlia had and wished for a Hershey's with almonds, but knew that it was hopeless; it would be melted if I'd had one. I tossed one of the bags of candy to Castro, who opened it and took one, and passed it to Mulcahy, who passed it on in his turn. Sverdlov got one, and then brought the bag back and handed it to Darlia.

"You don't look as tired as they do," Darlia said.

Sverdlov grinned. "I'm not. I'm used to this, and they're not."

"Are you a police officer?" Darlia said it carefully – she'd only learned the difference between "police" and "police officer" the year before and was still conscious of how she was saying it.

"I guess so. I'm a law enforcement ranger with the National Park Service, which usually means I give people tickets for littering on Park Service land."

Darlia looked around. "Anybody who litters here is stupid," she said decisively.

"Darlia!" Cecelia had come back while we were talking. "That was hardly a polite thing to say."

"I know, Mommy. I'm sorry. But..."

"But it is thoughtless to toss one's trash into this wilderness, and thereby deface it. I may quarrel with your manners, honey, but I cannot dispute your sentiments."

"Mommy..." Darlia dragged out the word.

"She's just treatin' you like a grownup again," I said. "She means it wasn't nice to say it, but she thought it." And I grinned at Cecelia and Darlia both.

Sverdlov laughed. "Believe me, I agree with you both. I sometimes wish I could arrest litterbugs instead of just tell them to pick up their trash." She looked pointedly at me. "I noticed that you don't have a trash dump at your camp."

"Nope," I said, watching as Cecelia set up and started the camp stove, and began opening cans. "We use the outhouse, or bury our waste, and the trash we pack out. I know this place, and I ain't a-gonna wreck it. It's beautiful as is, and it don't need no trash blowin' around it." I picked up a pebble and tossed it toward Cecelia's feet. When she looked up I asked, "Speaking of which, did you bring the entrenching tool?"

She didn't answer me, just said Darlia's name. The girl looked around at what they'd packed from the Blazer, got up, walked a few steps, and picked something up off the ground. She brought it to me – the entrenching tool I'd asked about. I held it up where everyone could see it. "You need to use the accommodation in the night, either water a bush away from the camp, or bury it." It was an order, and I didn't mind that at all. As far as I was concerned I was as much a guardian of Lanfair Valley as Sverdlov was, if not more – after all, it was my childhood home.

We were quiet then, while Cecelia fried hash and made chili and hominy. We eat a lot of both while we're in the desert, and other stuff you can cook without using water. She's learned to fry green beans, and corn, and new potatoes, and other vegetables you can get out of a can. Of course canned goods are heavy, but the Blazer can handle the weight, and they keep forever. If I remember right they originated as military rations, for the military always needs food that'll keep.

When the food was ready we dug in. I'd been chewing on jerky and chips and trail mix all day, but real food was welcome and I enjoyed it. Afterwards I helped Cecelia scrub the dishes with sand, and pack up the Blazer. The cops got into their vehicle and drove off, all but Sverdlov, who unrolled a sleeping bag Cecelia had brought for her ... actually she'd brought the two spares we had, in addition to mine, but with the other two gone the one was all we needed.

While Sverdlov was preparing for bed I stood by the Blazer with my family. By now it was full dark, and with the camp stove packed up the only light was from the sky overhead, and the flashlight Darlia was using in the Blazer as she made sure everything was secure for the trip back to our camp. One of the first things I did when I got the Blazer was disconnect the door switches, so that the dome light doesn't come on when you open the door. It's an old cop habit, which has come in useful more than once. It's not good to have the bad guys noticing your dome light go on when you're trying to sneak out of your vehicle. You can still turn on the dome light from the dash, but Darlia's like me – she can't see the sense in climbing into the front to turn on the light, then climbing into the back, then going back to the front when she's done to turn the light off again.